


i'm fragile (i try not to be)

by deanc0ded



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Grief/Mourning, Homophobic John Winchester, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Love Confessions, M/M, Repressed Bisexual Dean Winchester, Smut, Top Dean Winchester, am i missing anything, probably, tags are hard on ao3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29839503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanc0ded/pseuds/deanc0ded
Summary: Dean had locked away his sexuality years ago. But when his best friend confesses his undying love, he's sorta forced to confront that. Can he sort through his Grade A Daddy Issues in order to give Cas (and himself) a chance?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> right, so, probably some triggering stuff here to some? the f slur is used by john winchester at one point. theres just some general very homophobic shit from john in this. dean also has a panic attack at one point but it isnt described in crazy detail. other than that, i think we're set, that should really be it. anyways, i want to dropkick john winchester directly into the sun. happy reading! do let me know what you think if you feel so inclined <3
> 
> also, nobody asked but in case you were curious, i grabbed the title from a stevie nicks song called leather and lace! it’s one of my favorite songs ever and if you don’t know it you should give it a listen <3

The jacket feels heavy. He feels the weight of it on his shoulders. It feels like coming home. An extremely _haunted_ home, mind you, one that swallows him whole. It's infested with all sorts of spirits and poltergeists of his past, but it's a home nonetheless. He doesn't even know why he has it on all these years later. His father is long gone. He's grown into the jacket a little bit more since he was 26, it was only natural. It still engulfs him.

For years, Dean Winchester wore his father's jacket everywhere he went. It was his security blanket. These days, he never wears it out of the house. He can't bring himself to. He isn't the man he was when his father passed this jacket on to him. He wonders, fleetingly, if his father would be proud of the man he's become, or if he would spit atrocities at him for becoming something that was disappointing. He wonders if his father would think him less of a man.

Dean has known for a while now that it's _both_ for him. Women, of course, always women. But... men, too. Definitely men, too. He hasn't told anyone, why would he? Cas was gone. Who else would he tell? Sam, sure, but he knows it wouldn't make a bit of difference to Sammy. And besides, he's pretty sure his little brother already knows. Sammy had walked in on him and another boy, long ago. He had begged his little brother, _'Please don't tell dad, Sammy, please. Dad can't know, dad can never know.'_ Neither of them ever brought it up again, and his father never berated him for it, so he figured Sammy had made good on his promise.

It was an unspoken rule that John Winchester would not have a _'fucking faggot'_ for a son. John was never suspicious of Dean, as far as he knew. He never asked. How could he? That would be a dead giveaway, wouldn't it? _'Hey, dad, for absolutely no reason at all, I was just wondering if you would hate me if I was gay? Haha, no, no reason. Seriously, not at all.'_ Yeah. Real slick.

Dean knew how his father felt about gay people from a very young age. Dean was so young, in fact, that he wasn't even aware of his attraction to men when he made the connection that it was most certainly Not Okay for a boy to ever like another boy like that. And when he figured it out, well... _that_ sucked. Those were a hard few weeks. It was during those weeks that Sammy had caught him. It was during those weeks that he begged his 12 year old brother not to tell their father what he was.

One night, in a shitty motel room, long after Sam had fallen asleep, Dean's father turned to him and said, "You know, Dean, if you ever brought a boy home, I wouldn't ever let you come home again." 

John had been especially drunk that night, and Dean's blood ran ice cold at his words. It had been years since The Incident that Sam had walked in on, so Dean had no idea where that was coming from. He turned to look at what was on the TV, and he exhaled a breath that he didn't know he had been holding. There were two gay characters on-screen. _Okay,_ he had thought. _Not about me. He's just drunk and talking out of his ass._ Dean had just mumbled a _'Yes, sir. Don't worry, I wouldn't,_ and laid back down, pretending to be asleep. He didn't sleep at all that night, not really.

So now, two decades and some change later, Dean stands in his bedroom in the bunker and lets the jacket swallow up all of the parts of him that he doesn't want to think about right now. Cas is _gone,_ seriously fucking gone this time. And Dean, he... He had pushed those parts of himself down so far, for so long before his father died. It only felt natural to keep shoving them down after he was gone. 

That was, until, his best friend professed his undying love for him, right before getting sucked away forever by an entity Dean couldn't possibly save him from this time. So now, here Dean sits. He sits down on his bed, well past midnight, in the first place that’s ever felt like home in his entire adult life. Except that now, without Cas, it feels significantly _less_ homey. So he puts on the jacket, he lets it provide a momentary home for him, it allows him to shelter himself from the world for just a fucking _moment._ Maybe he even allows a few tears to slip down his cheeks without making an effort to stop them. Yeah, his father would _definitely_ kick his ass for being a little bitch while wearing his jacket. 

Dean has just dried up his tears when he hears a soft knock at his door. He rolls his eyes. "Go away, Sammy. I'm not hungry." He grumbles. Sam has been trying to get him to eat all damn _day,_ and it's getting pretty fucking annoying.

Dean hears nothing but silence for a long moment, but there's still the shadow of a person standing outside of his bedroom door. He sighs and stands up.

"Sam, I fucking _told_ you, I'm not-" he swings the door open, and suddenly there's ice in his veins. The last fucking thing he expects to see is _Cas,_ standing there with his fist raised, looking like he was debating on knocking again or just walking away.

"Hello, Dean." 

Dean has never been so fucking happy to hear those words in his life. He must look ridiculous, he thinks, standing in his bedroom doorway wearing his father's old leather jacket, an torn up t-shirt, a pair of sweatpants Cas had been partial to while he was human, and a pair of socks with fucking _bees_ on them. It doesn't matter, It doesn't fucking _matter_ how he looks, because Cas is _back._ He wants to launch forward and crush Cas in a hug, But his feet seem to be glued to the floor all of a sudden. He can't move, can't breathe, can't blink. He probably stands there in silence, eyes locked on Castiel's for a full minute before he exhales and rubs his eyes, blinking furiously for a few seconds like he's expecting Cas to just _disappear._ To be fair, he _is_ expecting Cas to just disappear. He can't believe it, doesn't believe it. 

"Dean, perhaps Sam has a point. You're quite pale, you should ea-" Cas' sentence is cut short because Dean's body has finally caught up with his fucking brain and he has launched forward, his arms wrapped tightly around Cas' shoulders so he can't float away.

He doesn't even care, he lets a couple more tears out as he feels Cas' arms wrap around him. "Cas, buddy," He pulls back with glassy eyes and a smile on his face, "Don't you _dare_ ever do that to me again. That was so fucked up, man. Seriously," He laughs and claps a hand down on his best friend's shoulder. He pulls him back in and hugs him again, shorter this time.

"Okay," Cas agrees, reflecting a smile back to Dean. "I'll do my best."

Dean spends the rest of the night listening to Cas explain the logistics of how he got out of The Empty. Essentially, Jack had just plucked him right on out. Dean wonders absently why the _fuck_ Jack couldn't have done that two weeks ago before he spent 14 days barely eating, and sleeping even less. Regardless, he's thankful. He makes a mental note to pray to their son later, ( _that_ was still a weird fucking thing to wrap his brain around) and thank him for giving him his best friend back.

After that conversation, Dean is yawning. Not because he's bored of Cas, but because he is _exhausted._ For the first time since Cas had been pulled into The Empty, Dean feels like maybe he could actually get some sleep. It's probably close to 2 a.m. when he turns to Cas and says, "As much as I would love to keep talking, buddy, I'm still human and I need to sleep."

Cas just smiles with a hint of something Dean doesn't recognize and nods his head. "Of course, Dean. I suppose I should head to bed as well. Before I do, though, I have to insist that we both eat something. Especially you." His eyes are pleading, like he might just cry if he can't convince Dean to eat something. 

"Oh- uh, yeah," Dean starts to walk toward the Bunker's kitchen, before he stops and turns back to look at Cas. He tilts his head. "Wait. You- you're...hungry?" he questions. "And tired, too? Cas, are you-"

"Human? Yes," Cas sighs. "It was a stipulation of getting to come back. My grace was left behind in The Empty. I'm okay with it. Provided that you won't kick me out this time." It's Cas' attempt at a joke, Dean can tell because he's smiling like he doesn't really mean it. This, however, doesn't stop Dean's heart from sinking so far into his stomach that he's not sure he actually _can_ eat, now. 

"Fuck," Dean whispers under his breath. He rubs his hand over his entire face and wills his eyes to stop stinging before marching right back to wrap his arms around Cas _again._ "You gotta know I'd never do that to you. Not again, man. I know you were kidding, but seriously. This is your home as much as it is mine." He fists Cas' trench coat in one hand, the other hand cradling the back of Cas' head. And yeah, maybe it's more intimate than most of their hugs, but cut him some slack. He knows Cas was just joking, but his heart is breaking all over again at the mere thought of Cas leaving after he _just_ got back. 

Cas rubs Dean's back and shakes his head. "You're wrong, Dean," Cas says. Dean's heart drops, but then Cas continues, " _You're_ my home," he says, like it's the simplest, truest fact in the world. Like it's not meant to make Dean crumple into a pile of tears and feelings.

He just barely keeps himself from doing exactly that by pulling back and looking at Cas. "Yeah," it comes out of his mouth strained, "Me too. I mean- you, you're- You're mine too. My home." He stutters out, his face heating up. He inhales sharply and claps his hands after a beat of silence. "So," he says, turning on his heels back toward the kitchen, "What're ya hungry for, Cas?" 

"Peanut butter and jelly," Cas answers automatically. This earns him a chuckle and a nod from Dean.

Dean whips up two PB&J's in record time, placing one in front of Cas, and sitting down across from him with the other. "First meal as a human again, and you choose PB&J. You're an odd guy, Cas," he says, but there's no malice behind his words. Only a fond smile as he bites into his own sandwich and watches Cas do the same. 

"I missed it," is all Cas offers in response, his mouth full. Dean thinks to himself that he's been a bad influence, and he's got Cas talking with his mouth full now. He doesn't really care, actually. It makes him smile that Cas has picked up some of his habits, but he tucks _that_ away in his brain to deal with later. 

They eat their sandwiches in relative silence after that, glancing up from them every few seconds at each other. When they've finished, Dean picks up both of their plates and places them in the sink. He takes a deep breath in, and exhales slowly. He half expects Cas to be gone when he turns around, but there he is, staring at Dean with that look in his eyes that he still can't quite place. 

He scratches the back of his neck and says, "Guess we ought to get to bed, huh?"

Castiel nods, once. "Yes. You look very tired, Dean," he notes. 

Dean scoffs, "Gee, Cas. Next time just tell me I look like shit," he half-jokes, running a hand through his hair.

"You look beautiful, Dean. Beautiful, but tired," Cas says.

Woah. Okay. That's. Hm. Dean doesn't exactly know what to do with that. He just shifts on his feet and coughs, his breath caught in his throat. What's he supposed to make of that? What is he supposed to _say?_ He rubs his face again and finally remembers to exhale, looking at Cas, bewildered. "You- Cas, man, you can't just _say_ that," he breathes, his eyes flickering down to his feet. Cas' gaze is entirely too intense, and Dean finally recognizes that look in his eyes. Ah, yes, _fondness._ It makes his face heat up an impossible amount. 

"Why not, Dean? You know how I feel about you, unless you've forgotten. However, that seems unlikely." Cas deadpans, and ooookay. They're talking about it, apparently. "I think you are beautiful, and I love you. I will continue to express it, unless you wish for me to stop." 

"I- What? Cas, no, I-" Dean grumbles, tripping over his words. His brain is perfectly clear on what _it_ wants to say, but apparently his mouth hasn't got the fucking memo. He wants to say _'Please, God, no. Don't ever stop reminding me. Tell me every day, don't ever stop telling me. Show me, show me forever.'_ What comes out instead is, "You don't have to stop." 

Cas smiles brightly and nods once. "Good. I'm heading to bed, I'll see you in the morning, Dean."

Dean is frozen in place, but manages a nod and a soft, "Goodnight, Cas."

Once Cas has rounded the corner and is out of Dean's line of sight, Dean finally lets himself relax a little bit. He eventually trudges back to his room and shrugs the too-large leather jacket off of his shoulders. He hangs it back up in the closet and shoves it deep enough in there that it isn't visible when he opens the door. He crawls underneath the covers and suddenly, he's wide awake. His brain has decided that now is the perfect time to resume thinking about what was on his mind before Cas came back.

He had been trying not to think about it at all. But with Cas' whole dying love confession fiasco, he had to at least address his sexuality within himself. He knew, of course he knew he liked men, too. Knew it most of his life, but refused to think about it. That part of himself had been locked in a box long before he ever met Cas. He couldn't let himself think about whether he was in love with Cas or not, because then he would have to unlock that safe little box inside his brain. But when Cas uttered those dying words to him, he smashed the pretty little padlock Dean had put on his box, and flung it right open, pouring all of _those_ thoughts straight into the rest of his brain. In order to figure out his feelings about Cas, he first had to confront the fact that he even liked men in general at all.

This was, decidedly, not fucking _fun_ for Dean. He wonders if his father ever would've warmed up to gay people, had he lived longer. _Probably not,_ Dean figures. He's laying on his back in the darkness of his room, eyes wide open. His hands are folded under his head and he's breathing heavily. He's teetering on hyperventilation, actually, but he forces himself to breathe deep and slow before it gets too out of hand. Hot tears roll out of the corners of his eyes, dripping down into his ears. It's an uncomfortable sensation, but Dean can't bring himself to care enough to lay in a different position. If only his father could see him now. He scratches at his scalp and squeezes his eyes closed, willing the tears to come to a stop.

"Fuck," He breathes into the dark, turning onto his side to will his brain to shut up and let him get some sleep. He's still wide awake, but he won't spare another thought for his father, not tonight. Instead, he thinks of Cas. How glad he was to have him back, to hug him. He was weirdly glad that Cas was human again. Cas was always his best friend, but when he was human, he was just so damn _endearing_. He always had this look in his eyes like he was a lost puppy. And, dammit, he probably felt exactly like one. That was Dean's fault. Dean's the one that booted him out of their home. Dean's the one that abandoned him when all he needed was a place to _belong._ Dean shouldn't be so fond of that _'lost puppy'_ look, but damn. He is. He can't help it. He looked that way even before Dean kicked him out.

And it's this train of thought that leads him to thinking about Cas in a more general sense. His head bounces from one thought to the next. How he looks, how he smells, how he speaks. How he carries himself. How is tie is always a little crooked and his jacket always a little wrinkled. He closes his eyes and he can see Cas' face as clear as day in his mind's eye. He can see his jawline, his always-messy hair, his slightly grown-out stubble, and his eyes. God, his eyes. Dean can zoom in on them in his mind, and he does. The last thought he has before he drifts off to sleep is that he feels like he could drown in those shades of deep blue. He dreams of the ocean, deep and vast.

——————————

Dean wakes up the next morning extremely abruptly, his breathing heavy. He had been dreaming. He couldn't tell where reality stopped and his dream began. Had Cas really come back? Or had he just hallucinated all of that in an attempt to feel better? Well, only one way to find out. 

Dean grumbles as he rolls out of bed. He figures, if Cas is really back, he should probably get changed. He's been wearing these clothes for days, seeing no point in changing them. He wasn't leaving the Bunker. Hell, he was hardly leaving his _room_.

He trudges over to his closet and pulls it open. He ignores the worn leather jacket that had been shoved deep into his closet, so deep that it was locked in an all new metaphorical box of it's own. If Dean was going to address his sexuality, he had to do it without John's poisonous words seeping through. He pulls out an old hoodie and pulls his t-shirt over his head. He puts the hoodie on in its place and shoves his sweatpants down to his ankles, then his boxers. He sighs and pulls on clean underwear, and a pair of joggers Sam had gifted him last year for his birthday. 

He pauses before he opens his bedroom door and notes that his hands are shaking. He takes a deep breath and breaks the barrier separating him and the rest of the Bunker - possibly Cas - and opens his door. His legs feel like lead as he makes his way into the kitchen, where he finds Sam and Cas making lunch. Dean hadn't checked the time before leaving his bedroom, but he figures he's slept into at least early afternoon. "What time is it?" he manages, his voice still laced with sleep. 

Sam and Cas' heads both whip around at the same time, and Cas is just _beaming._ "Dean! Good morning," he teases, turning back to helping Sam with lunch. They're only making sandwiches. Cas, of course, is making himself another PB&J. Dean cracks a smile at this, but it fades slowly when he realizes that Sam is staring him down. To be fair, it was the first time Sam had seen Dean leave his room for the better part of a week. 

"Cas, you gotta eat something other than PB&J's. You're gonna be malnourished, pal," Dean jokes, walking over to the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup. He sips at it, still under Sam's worried stare. "Dude. Stop looking at me like that. What's your deal?" he grumbles. 

"My de-" Sam cuts himself off, rolling his eyes. " _My_ deal, Dean? Cas is back, and you- you're just-" Sam tilts his head. "You already knew. That's why you left your room," he deducts, sighing. "You knew? You fucking _knew?_ And you didn't think to, I don't know, wake me up? He was just drinking coffee when I walked in here this morning, I thought maybe he had just gotten back, I-" Sam shakes his head. He turns back to making his sandwich, which actually turns out to be for Dean. He sits it down in front of him, "I was just gonna leave it outside your door, but since you're here," he notes, turning back to actually make his own lunch.

Dean grunts in appreciation and lifts his head as Cas sits down in front of him. He takes a bite out of his sandwich, and musters as much of a smile as he can with his mouth full of meat, cheese, and veggies. "Mornin, Cas," he says around his food, which earns him a smile out of the ex-angel. 

"It's actually almost one in the afternoon, Dean. You slept a long time," Cas notes, mouth also full of PB&J. 

"Yeah. Needed it," is all Dean offers in response, mustard at both corners of his mouth. He puts his sandwich down to walk over to the fridge and grab a beer. When he comes back, Cas licks his thumb and reaches across the table, wiping both corners of Dean's mouth for him. Dean can't see himself, but he's sure his entire face has just gone red. 

"You really are a messy eater, Dean." Cas notes, before bringing his thumb to his own mouth and licking the mustard off. Dean seriously cannot _believe_ this dude. 

"Cas, you totally just _mommed me,_ man," Dean complains, but there's no real protest behind his words. He's too flustered to put up an actual fight. 

"Maybe I wouldn't have to if you didn't walk around wearing your food on your face," Cas responds, shrugging his shoulders. He goes back to eating his own sandwich and finishes up before Dean does. 

Dean eats the rest of his sandwich in silence, his cheeks beet red the entire time. He's careful not to let any more of his sandwich get on his face, and even wipes his mouth with a napkin when he's done. Cas seems satisfied. 

"I'm going to the library to read, if either of you need me," Cas offers, standing up from his place across from Dean and walking out of the kitchen without so much as a backward glance at Dean or Sam. 

When Dean finally looks back over to Sam, he's just staring, mouth wide open. "Dude," is all he can bring himself to say, apparently.

"What?" Dean grunts, picking up his and Cas' plates and taking them over to the sink to wash them. Dean washes and rinses, and Sam dries them as they talk. 

"Nothing, I just-" Sam pauses, taking a plate from Dean. They've been needing to do dishes for a while now. "Why _didn't_ you guys wake me up?" He asks. 

"We we're talking, man, I dunno," Dean says. "He was explaining how Jack saved him from the empty, how he became human," he shrugs. He leaves out, on purpose, the other things that were said. He leaves out how Cas was so transparent and honest about his love for Dean. He never even told Sam about the confession in the first place. These were the most words he had exchanged with Sam for the last two weeks at all, come to think of it. "Why didn't _you_ come wake me up, if you thought I didn't know he was back? You didn't think _I'd_ like to know that?" Dean teases, flicking water at his brother's face. 

"No, I just-" Sam sighs and wipes the water off his face, "I actually came busting into your room early this morning to tell you. You were actually asleep for the first time in a while, and you looked peaceful," he shrugs. "I figured I would let you get some sleep first, that's all. Cas promised he wouldn't go anywhere, and we both wanted you to get some real shut-eye." 

Dean's heart melts a little at that, but he would never admit it. He spent his whole life looking out for Sammy, taking care of him. Making sure he stayed warm, making sure he stayed fed. Now, all these years later, Sam had been trying to take care of _him_ in the midst of his grief and (unbeknownst to Sam) gay panic. "Well, thanks," is all Dean can bring himself to say. 

They finish up the dishes and make small talk. They talk about how glad they are for Cas to be back, how weird it is that their kid is God now. Maybe that last one doesn't count as small talk, it's pretty big to have your kid _be_ God. Regardless, after everything, they both feel a sense of peace, a sense of freedom. It's a little hard to believe that after everything, they can really just... do whatever they want. 

"I don't know if you heard me a couple of days ago, but I had planned to leave to go see Eileen today," Sam says as he's drying the last dish. "I can cancel, of course, she'll understand. With Cas being back and all, she'll understand if I need to put it off for a few days."

"What? Dude, no. Go see your girlfriend, man. Me and Cas will be fine. We'll live off of PB&J's and greasy food, and we won't have to hear you bitch about it," Dean smirks, elbowing his brother in the side. "I mean, if you want to stay behind and catch up with Cas, that's fine. But it could be a while before you and Eileen's schedules line up for this long again. Cas will be here when you get back." Dean shrugs, because he knows it's true. Cas isn't going anywhere. Dean's pretty sure he doesn't want to, with the whole _'you're my home, Dean,'_ thing, but even if he did. Dean would tie him to a chair before he let Cas leave him again. He tries not to think too hard about that. 

Sam just nods. "Yeah, no. You're right, of course. In that case, I'm gonna go pack." He hesitates for a moment, and then pulls Dean into a fierce hug. "It's good to see you smile, man. Jack didn't just give me Cas back. He gave me you back, too," and oh great, Sam sounds like he might cry. 

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Sammy. Just go see your girlfriend," Dean says, but there's no bite behind his words as his arms come up to wrap around Sam. He pats him on the back a couple of times before wrenching himself from Sam's grip. "She's waitin' for ya," he winks, giving Sam a light shove. 

Sam's eyes are glassy as he huffs out a laugh, rolling his eyes as he turns around and heads off to his room to pack. 

Dean needs a fucking _minute_ before he can face Cas. He sits down at the table and downs the rest of his beer in one go, and then pours himself another cup of coffee. He sits at the table as he sips it, lost in thought.

How _does_ he feel about Cas? Well, no. Let's start with something easier. How does he feel about men in general? Well, that's easy. They're hot, just like women are. Even when Dean's Gay Thoughts were shoved deep into the darkest corners of his mind, he still wasn't blind. There were a few times over the years where he got too drunk to care, and he allowed himself to flirt with men. Shamelessly. He had flirted his way into countless free drinks at countless bars all over the country. And he would always tell himself, _'This is fine. I'm just doing this to get drunker for free. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't make me a fa-'_ and he would cut his brain off right there, and knock back his free shot of whiskey, tequila, vodka, whatever. 

Well, now that he's unpacked that he definitely _does_ think men are hot, he's circled right back around to Cas. Well, so much for getting out of that one. 

Does he think _Cas_ is hot? Well, that's easy enough. Yes. Hard yes. Between everything he'd been thinking about as he'd drifted off thinking about last night, and the fact that Cas was his best friend, it was easy to acknowledge that Dean at least found him physically appealing. His _feelings_ for Cas, on the other hand, were a little harder to decipher. Did he truly reciprocate, or did he just like the idea that someone as, well, _holy_ as Cas loved him? He didn't know. He didn't know how to figure it out, either. He does know that he feels much different for Cas than he felt for Lisa, or even Cassie. He had loved both of them, just in different ways. He loves Cas, too. He knows he does, but he just can't put his finger on how it's different from how he loved Lisa or Cassie. He cant decipher if Cas truly is just his best friend, or if there's something more there. Something that's been buried since he woke up in a pine box with a handprint seared onto his shoulder.

He's getting frustrated trying to untangle his thoughts, and he's been sitting here for... he can't even tell how long. But Sam walks back in eventually, to find Dean with a scowl on his face, gripping his coffee cup so hard that his knuckles have gone white. 

"Dean, Dude, you're gonna smash the cup. What's got you all twisted up? Are you sure I don't need to stay with you, seriously, Eileen will understa-"

Dean cuts him off, "No, Sam. Go see your girl. I'm fine. Just need to adjust to Cas being back. I was grieving, you know? It's weird for that to just... stop. Because he's back, there's nothing to grieve now, he's back and I-" Dean cuts himself off so he doesn't start crying, because he can feel the lump in his throat. 

Sam just sighs and nods, but there's a frown on his face like he's unconvinced. "Okay, man. If you say so. I'm gonna go tell Cas bye, and then I'm off. Call if you guys need anything," And with that, Sam leaves his brother with his thoughts. 

Dean considers for a very brief moment, coming out to Sam right as he's walking out the door so he doesn't have to deal with it. _'Alright, Sammy! Go have fun with your girlfriend. By the way, I like boys! Maybe Cas! Not sure on that one though, but have fun! Seeya!'_ Yeah, he can't imagine that going over very well, so he doesn't. He'll get around to it. 

——————————

So, Sammy's been gone for a few hours the next time Dean sees Cas. It's around six in the evening, and Dean's still sitting at the kitchen table, becoming increasingly frustrated with his jumbled thoughts. If he can't even make sense of his own feelings, how is he ever supposed to talk to Cas about it? Or be normal when Cas talks about it?

"Dean, I'm hungry." Cas states, which shakes Dean out of his head. The second he lays eyes on Cas, there's nothing but white noise in his head. He finds himself smiling.

"Right, yeah. Okay, what do you want? And do _not_ say peanut butter and jelly, Cas. You need real food, protein and shit." Dean says. 

"I sense that I've interrupted your thoughts," Cas says in response, probably purposefully ignoring Dean bitching at him for the PB&Js. 

"Well, I- Yeah. Kinda. But it's not a big deal. We both need to eat." Dean shrugs and groans as he stands up for the first time in a few hours, his legs all but completely asleep. He has to sit back down immediately because his legs wobble, and he can't hold himself up. He moves them around and stretches them out from his seated position, trying to get them to wake up. 

Cas tilts his head and squints. "Have you not moved since lunch this afternoon?" he questions, taking a seat next to Dean. He's sitting close, so close that their thighs are pressed together as he turns his head to look at Dean, who is staring straight ahead. He doesn't think he could handle sitting this close to Cas _and_ looking directly into his eyes. 

"Um, well. No, not really. I got up a couple of times to refill my coffee and make more, but I've been in here all day." He says, and it _does_ sound ridiculous, to be fair.

"Is there something I can help you with, Dean? Are you doing okay? Are you struggling with my presence? I can go," Cas makes a motion to stand up from beside Dean. 

Before Dean can think, he's clamped his hand down on Cas' thigh, gripping with more force than was entirely necessary. His face goes hot and he's sure Cas catches it, because Dean can see him smirk out of his peripheral vision. "No, Cas. No, don't." It comes out of his mouth sounding more desperate than he intends, and then Cas lays a gentle hand on top of Dean's. Dean releases his death grip on Cas' thigh, but leaves his hand in place. He stares down at Cas' hand on top of his own and gulps. 

"Okay, Dean. I won't. What do you want to eat? We could go out," Cas says, rubbing his thumb over the top of Dean's hand in what Dean is sure is an attempt to soothe him. It doesn't work. If anything, it just makes his heart pound harder. He still doesn't move his hand. "Sam tells me you haven't left the bunker since I... well."

Dean swallows and shakes his head. "Yeah, I uh... I haven't. We can go out, that sounds good. But can we bring it back to the Bunker? I wanna watch a movie." It's a split second decision. It also has something to do with the fact that he can't really be bothered to shower at the moment, or change clothes. Both of which would be required in order to sit down in a restaurant with Cas. 

"Sure, Dean. Of course, whatever would make you happy." Cas smiles as he speaks, squeezing Dean's hand before he stands up. It makes Dean's head spin, and those words echo in his mind. _'Whatever would make you happy.'_ He sighs and stands up as he rubs his face. 

Dean just wordlessly finds his house shoes, slips them on, and grabs the keys to Baby. He can't deny that he's excited to get her back on the road after two weeks. Sam had taken her out a couple of times for food runs, but Dean needed to get behind the wheel himself. He needed to roll her windows down, feel the sun and wind on his face and in his hair. 

Dean and Cas walk together to the garage and Dean scoffs as he runs his finger over the hood, collecting dust. "Sammy takes her out, gets her all dirty, and doesn't even wash her. Bitch," he mutters the last word under his breath and rolls his eyes. He climbs inside anyways, starting the ignition and smiling brightly. He sees that smile mirrored when he turns to look at Cas. 

They drive to Dean's favorite diner in Lebanon, and Cas goes inside for him to order food. He's not gone for very long before he's walking out with a bag in each hand. The drive back is significantly less peaceful, because every time Dean looks to his right, Cas is just staring at him and looking so fucking _fond._ It makes Dean want to squirm. It makes him uncomfortable. Not because it's unwelcome, but because he just doesn't feel worthy. Some of the first words Cas had ever said to him were about him thinking he didn't deserve to be saved. He thinks to himself that he deserves Cas' love infinitely less than he deserved to be saved by him, time and time again. 

"Am I making you uncomfortable, Dean?" Cas outright asks him. Dean doesn't remember Cas being this straightforward with him before getting taken by The Empty. Before the love confession. He actually _does_ squirm at this. 

"No! No, well," he sighs, shaking his head. "Yes, but no. I don't-" he grumbles, why is it so hard to talk to Cas now? Why does he always get so flustered? Cas isn't acting like anything has changed, why is this so hard for Dean? "I don't... want you to stop. Just not used to it, is all," he grits out, gripping Baby's wheel tighter than necessary. 

It isn't too long after this that they pull up to the Bunker. Dean parks Baby in the garage, and makes a remark about needing to come out and give her a wash sometime after dinner. Cas offers to join him after the movie, and Dean says he'd like that. 

They carry their food inside, and Dean makes a beeline for the 'Dean Cave.' He pops 'The Princess Bride' into the DVD player and its play as he sits down in one of the two recliners that are both probably placed a little too close to the TV, but he doesn't really care. He unwraps his food as Cas sits down next to him. 

"Dean, The Princess Bride? Again?" Cas asks, but Dean can tell by his tone that he's not actually bothered in the slightest. 

"Yes, Cas. The Princess Bride. Again. It's a classic, man. And you love it, too. I know you do," Dean smiles at him and kicks Cas' foot gently, speaking with his mouth full of burger. 

"I love it because it makes you happy when we watch it. I love it because I love _you._ " Cas says simply, his eyes trained on the TV as he speaks. Like he hasn't just set off a fucking bomb in Dean's stomach. 

Dean chokes on his burger and stares at Cas incredulously. 

Is this what they're doing, now? Cas is just going to declare his love at random intervals for the rest of forever, and it's going to tie Dean's stomach in knots until he dies from his intestines being twisted up inside of his body? Cas is just smirking at the screen like he knows exactly what he's just done to Dean. Fucking bastard. 

Dean finishes his food and stares at the screen, but he can't focus to save his life. Its a good thing he's seen this movie a thousand times, or else he'd be pissed at Cas for distracting him like this. Except, Cas isn't even really doing anything. He's just watching the movie, completely unbothered. This bothers Dean _a lot_ , thank you very much. Cas is leaning on the armrest of his chair, leaning toward Dean. Their shoulders are pressed together and Dean's heart is racing so fucking hard he's _sure_ Cas can probably hear it. 

And then, and fucking _then,_ Cas leans his head over. Drops it against Dean's shoulder and just stays there. Dean doesn't have it in himself to tell him to move, and it's not like he even _wants_ him to move. He doesn't. He takes a deep breath and tilts his own head over to rest on top of Cas'. His heart is thumping so hard he thinks it might just beat directly out of his chest, or work itself so hard that it just stops. Dean's too fucking old for this. He feels like a teenager, feels like his heart is beating harder than it did the first time he got his hands up his high school girlfriend's shirt. 

And it is _insane._ Insane because Cas isn't even actually doing anything. This isn't Cas' way of making a move. Cas doesn't _need_ to make a move. He's already told Dean everything there is to tell him. It's Dean's turn to decide what he wants to do with that, and he fucking hates it. He hates it because he's scared. He thinks absently that if Cas kissed him, he definitely wouldn't put up a fight. He's pretty damn sure that he would even _like_ it. 

Dean's thoughts are interrupted when he hears a soft snore coming from Cas. _'Fuck,'_ he thinks, _'He's asleep. He fell asleep on me.'_

His heart races as he slides one hand between Cas' cheek and his shoulder so that he can get up and turn off the TV, and maybe coax Cas to bed. Cas wakes up, though, as soon as Dean stands up. Dean still hasn't dropped Cas' face out of his hand, so Cas is just looking at him with bleary eyes while Dean cups his cheek. Fuck. 

Dean smiles awkwardly, because he's just. He's just standing there, in front of his very sleepy and _very_ adorable best friend, holding his fucking face. And Cas is relaxing into the touch, so Dean can't exactly just move his hand, that would probably hurt if he just let Cas' head fall to the side. 

"Hello, Dean. I must have fallen asleep, I'm sorry," Cas says, and his eyes slip closed as he fucking _nuzzles_ into Dean's touch.

Dean's heart clenches at the sight. Without thinking, he crouches down in front of Cas, and rubs his thumb over his cheekbone. Cas' eyes flutter open at this, full of hope and wonder. "You wanna go lay down, Sunshine?" The nickname rolls affectionately off his tongue before he can even attempt to stop it. He only falters for a moment before he rubs his thumb over his best friend's cheek again, a soft smile on his lips. 

It's well past 9 in the evening now, after they've gotten food, eaten it, and finished the movie. If Cas woke up early enough to catch Sam this morning, he probably _is_ ready for bed. 

"I think I would like that, yes," Cas just smiles and brings his hand up to hold on to Dean's. "Would you join me?" he asks, as if its the most normal thing in the fucking world. As if Dean isn't going to melt down right here in a fit of gay panic. As if Dean can't hear John Winchester's bitter words ringing in his ears for even considering accepting the invitation to crawl into Cas' bed with him. And he is considering it. 

Dean pulls his hand out of Cas' grasp and away from his face and stands up straight. He fiddles with the hem of his t-shirt as he thinks. "I- I uh," he starts, but that's not right. Anything he says is either going to let Cas down, or let his father down. He can't figure out which choice makes him more uncomfortable.

He knows how easy this should be. His father is dead, and Castiel isn't. Cas is right here in front of him, is in love with him. Cas _loves_ him, and would probably fly straight up to heaven to kick John Winchester's ass _himself_ if he could. Dean knows how easy this should be, and his eyes are watering at the thought of the faded leather jacket that swallows him up sitting in the back of his closet. "I-" But he can't force the words out of his throat. He turns on his heels and all but sprints out of the room, down the hall, and into his bedroom. 

He sits down in the chair at his desk, putting his head between his knees. He had read, back when he first started having panic attacks, that this position could help. Blood is rushing in his head and he can't form a single coherent thought. He has no idea how to stop himself from spiraling. Hot tears are spilling down his cheeks at the thought of his father spitting poison at him, which he certainly would be if he was alive to do so. 

The next thing that happens is he feels a hand on his shoulder. His head snaps up and it's Cas. Of course it's Cas. It's always been Cas. 

_It's always been Cas._

"Dean, are you alright? I'm so sorry, I never meant to upset you. I wouldn't have bothered you, but your door was open..." Cas trails off and rubs Dean's back. "I'm sorry, Dean. I can stop expressing my feelings. You're aware of them, and I shouldn't have pushed." He sighs, crouching down to be at eye level with Dean.

Dean just smiles through his tears and shakes his head. "Cas, buddy, I-" He's choking on his own words. He can't get them out. The ghost of his father is shoving them back down his throat. "I don't want you to stop. I- I just," he shakes his head. He grabs Cas' wrist and lays his face in the palm of his ex-angel's palm. Butterflies erupt in his stomach, beating themselves against his ribcage and his heart. He leans into Cas' touch and more tears slip down his cheeks. He seems to have at least caught his breath.

"Cas, I-" He takes one more deep breath. He can do this. "It's my dad, Cas. I can't, because my dad-" he chokes on his words, trying to breathe and steady himself. He uses the feeling of Cas' hand against his face ground him. _'You're dad is dead, Dean,'_ he reminds himself, _'He can't hurt you. He can't see you. It's just Cas.'_

"My dad, he- um. Oh, God. He would just hate me, y'know? He'd be so disappointed in me." Dean's voice breaks as he speaks but he's finally managed to stop the tears. 

"I don't understand, Dean. Why do you think that?" Cas swipes his thumb under Dean's eye, wiping at the wetness. "You've saved the world time and time again. You've been your brother's protector since you could walk. You're a man that's full of so much love and compassion," He brings his other hand up to cup Dean's face in both hands. "You're so selfless, Dean. I've told you all of this. Don't you believe me?" Cas asks, his head tilted and his eyes glassy. Dean's heart breaks. 

"No, not- not that. He- God, Cas. My dad really fucking hated gay people." Dean sputters. That counts, right? That counts as coming out. Cas will know what he means.

Except, apparently, he doesn't. "What does that have to do with anything, Dean? You're not-" Cas pulls his hands away from Dean's face and his eyes go wide as he realizes. "Oh. You... You're- alright." His expression is unreadable to Dean. 

"Yeah. I mean, both. It's both. I still like women. But I like men, too. Just as much," Dean admits. He's worried, why has Cas stopped touching him? Why can't he read his face? He's never seen this expression on Cas before. 

"So you... you like men." Cas says, his lips forming a thin line for a moment before he continues, "Just not... me." He concludes. It's so quiet that Dean wonders if he misheard him. His heart breaks all over again when he realizes that Cas is _hurt._

"What?" Dean crumples as he speaks. He slides off the chair to crouch where Cas is, on the floor. He takes both of Cas' hands in his, and looks at him. "No, Cas. God, its you," he breathes, and then he can't stop. "For so long, I shoved that part of myself away. I didn't let myself think about it. I still don't _like_ to, but after you up and confessed your love for me, I kinda _had_ to think about it." His hands are shaking as he holds on to Cas'. Their eyes are locked on each other, now. "I had to think about it, because if I didn't, I'd never know if I loved you back. And before you came back, it was easy. It was easy to keep it locked away and to not let myself think about it. But then, you were back, and you were still in love with me. And very vocal about it," they both laugh, "So I had to let myself consider it. And it's you, Cas. It's you, for me. Men, Women, I don't care anymore. It's you." He finishes, and he exhales. He hangs his head and shakes it with a smile on his face. The tears are back, but that's okay.

"Oh, Dean," Cas says, and he's beaming. Fucking _beaming._ Like, from ear to goddamn ear. Then he's pulling Dean in, and _oh, God, Dean is so not prepared for this._ But then, Cas just pulls him into a hug. They're sitting on Dean's bedroom floor, and Dean is basically in Cas' lap. It would look absurd to anyone that might see them. Two fully grown men sitting on the concrete floor of the Bunker, just fucking _embracing._

Dean's head is buried in Cas' neck as happy tears slip out of his eyes. Judging by the wet spot Dean can feel forming on his shoulder, so is Cas. Dean pulls back and looks at him. He runs a shaky hand through Cas' hair, and trails it down to hold his face. _'Well',_ Dean thinks, _'Only one thing left to do.'_

Dean leans in, and Cas meets him halfway. Their lips touch, and Dean is secretly hoping for a total chick flick moment. Butterflies, fireworks, sparks flying, the whole works. What he gets, is much better. 

It just feels natural. It feels like coming home, like settling in. It's comfort, it's love, it's everything. Dean wants to wrap himself up in Cas and make a forever home out of him. He hopes that this goes on forever. A never-ending homecoming. Whatever the fuck John Winchester would have to say about this, Dean doesn't care anymore. Nothing has ever felt this right in his whole life, and he'll be damned if he lets his _dead father_ ruin this for him. His bottom lip swipes across Cas' out of pure instinct, and _'Oh,'_ he thinks. _'That's fucking awesome.'_ Cas' lips part for him so easily, and they're just fully making out on the floor of the bunker. Dean's hands are cradling Cas' face so gently, like he's afraid he might break him. The kiss reflects this touch. It's open, honest, and not at all rushed. 

Cas' tongue slides easily into Dean's mouth, like that's where it belongs. And if Dean whines, _no he fucking doesn't, okay._

Dean doesn't know how long they stay like that before Cas breaks the kiss. Dean makes a noise of protest, which just makes Cas smile fondly. "Dean. I love this, and I love you, but this floor is hurting my ass," he smiles. 

Dean laughs but stands up, offering his hand out to Cas to pull him up. And then, as soon as they're both on their feet, Dean's space is being invaded and he's being pressed against his closet door. He makes a sound of surprise but certainly not protest. Cas' lips are then back on his, and _oh,_ that's hot. Cas has him pinned to the door of the closet, and he couldn't move if he wanted to. Which he doesn't. Not even a little. He gives a mental middle finger to the jacket that will be collecting dust in his closet for a good long while. 

Cas' hands are all over him, and Dean's mind is offline. Bluescreen, white noise. Nothing going on up there but a mantra of, _'Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas.'_

Cas eventually pulls back to look at him, and his lips are pink and swollen. "So fucking beautiful," Dean hears, and he's about to start blushing until he realizes it was _him_ who had said it. 

Cas just stares like he can't believe what he's hearing. He slides his hands under Dean's hoodie and maintains eye contact. He wraps his hands around to rest on Dean's hips, pushing them flush with the closet door. Dean is pretty sure his heart stops. He makes a noise that comes from the back of his throat, throwing his head back. 

This proved to be an unwise decision because then Cas' lips were just _there,_ kissing and biting and sucking. Dean is sure that he's never going to be able to think about anything other than this again. Cas' hands on his hips, his lips on his neck. He can't think. He can barely breathe.

Dean's brain is turning into mush but he manages to get his fingers to grab the hem of Cas' shirt and tug on it. Cas breaks away from Dean's neck long enough to stick his arms up and let Dean strip him of his t-shirt. Cas does the same with Dean's hoodie, pulling it over his head and pressing their chests together. Cas fits one of his legs between both of Dean's, and this time, yeah. Dean whines. 

He leans down and presses their lips together like he might die if he doesn't. He's shamelessly grinding against Cas' leg and his hip. And the noises that Cas is making in response are fucking _delicious._ Dean swallows them up and he can't get enough. If this ever stops, it'll be too soon. 

Dean reaches his hands down to grab at Cas' belt. He unbuckles it, and then unbuttons them, and then unzips them. His eyes flicker to Cas', and he just gets a furious nod in response. Dean's hands are swatted away after unzipping Cas' jeans, because Cas is _impatient,_ apparently. He steps out of his jeans with ease and kicks them across the room.

Cas tucks his finger into the waistband of Dean's joggers, and then pulls the drawstring. He shoves them down Dean's thighs enough so that he can shimmy out of them the rest of the way on his own. What Dean does next is completely out of his control. He pushes Cas backwards until they land on his bed, and crawls on top of him. He's straddling Cas' hips and grinding their hips together as he grabs a fistful of hair and kisses him filthier than he's ever kissed anyone in his life. 

Cas groans into the kiss and bucks his hips up to meet Dean's thrusts. "Dean, please," he breathes, his voice raspy. Dean fucking _melts._

"God, sweetheart, yes. Anything you want, I'll give it to you, just ask, it's already yours," Dean is absently aware that he's babbling, but he really doesn't give a fuck right now. He's grinding against Cas and his body feels like one huge live wire. The friction is so sweet, but just not _enough._ He pulls back from Cas, (who makes his displeasure known through a whine) and plays with the waistband of his boxers. "Can I?" he asks, suddenly shy. 

Cas just grins up at him for a second before nodding. "Yes, Dean. Please," he whispers, throwing his head back against Dean's pillow. 

Dean slips Cas' boxers down his legs until they're around his ankles. He leaves it to Cas to kick them the rest of the way off, and lays on his stomach between Cas' legs. Dean hasn't done this, well, _ever._ He figures Cas won't mind if it isn't the greatest. Has Cas ever even _had_ a blowjob? Dean doesn't know. And he doesn't feel like asking. Because if Cas says yes, he thinks he'll go insane. The thought of anyone else ever seeing Cas this way makes him jealous, and it makes him that much more determined to make this fucking awesome for Cas. He shimmies out of his own boxers, so he can grind against the bed where he lays between Cas' legs. 

Cas is looking at him like the sun shines out of his ass. "Please, Dean. Don't make me wait any longer," Cas whines, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better view of Dean. 

And, yeah, okay. Fair enough. Now or never, Winchester. 

Dean takes Cas' dick in one hand and gives it a couple of slow tugs. The noises that he's getting from Cas only spur him on. He wraps his lips around the tip and sinks down until he can feel himself about to gag. He pulls back up slowly and then Cas is grabbing at his hair and pushing him back down and, _oh,_ that's good. That's fucking perfect. 

Dean relaxes and looks up at Cas through hooded eyelids, giving him silent permission to fuck his mouth. He'd give verbal permission if his mouth wasn't otherwise occupied at the current moment. 

And then Cas is holding on to Dean's hair for dear life and rolling his hips up into his mouth like he'll never experience anything more fantastic. Dean is moaning and grinding down into the mattress every time Cas hits the back of his throat. This is the happiest Dean thinks he's ever been. 

One of Dean's hands is still around Cas' dick, stroking the part of it that he can't fit into his mouth in time with Cas' slow and gentle thrusts. Dean's other hand comes up to grab onto Cas' hand. The one that isn't presently tugging on his hair. Their fingers interlock and Dean's heart swells. He always thought of blowjobs as some filthy, sexy thing until now. The way Cas is holding his hand and looking into his eyes and thrusting into his mouth so fucking slowly makes this one of the most intimate experiences Dean has ever had.

"Dean, oh..." Cas moans, breaking eye contact to throw his head back. "Dean, this is- I- you-" Cas can't seem to form any more coherent thoughts than Dean can, so that's comforting at the very least. "So good, Dean, that's... that's perfect." He whimpers and his hips start to speed up. _'Yes,_ Dean thinks, grinding harder onto the bed. He doesn't know about Cas, but he's close. He's going to come just from grinding on his bed with his best friend's dick in his mouth. 

Then, Cas is fucking his mouth in earnest. He's babbling incoherent sentences, and Dean is pretty sure some of those words aren't even English. 

Dean hollows cheeks even more, and Cas is groaning and squirming and pushing his dick deeper into Dean's mouth, testing his limits. Dean decides that he can handle it and he relaxes his throat, and _fuck,_ that's fantastic. 

Cas is whining now, his breathing heavy. He looks desperate and needy and like what he's about to do is going to be the hardest thing he's ever had to do in his life when he says, "Dean, I- I'm-" and then he pulls Dean's hair to pull him off, which means it's _Dean's_ turn to whine. 

Dean is sure he looks thoroughly fucked as he speaks, he can feel his own spit, wet on his chin. He hasn't stopped grinding his own hips into the bed, so if Cas hadn't noticed before, he definitely had now. "It's okay, Cas. Come for me," is what comes out of his mouth, which is fine. It's not like he has control over his brain or body or _anything_ right now, and that isn't the worst thing he could've said. 

Cas just whimpers and nods, sinking his dick back into Dean's mouth and fucking his throat relentlessly. He's not letting up. Between watching Cas' face, feeling his dick in his throat, and grinding down onto the bed, Dean is coming. He moans around Cas' dick as his own hips stutter, but he holds his head steady through it all, wanting to take care of Cas, too. 

Dean feels when it happens, feels it down his throat as Cas' hips still while his dick is buried inside Dean's mouth. He's whining and moaning and cursing, and Dean is so blissed out that he doesn't catch Cas muttering "I love you, I love you, I love you," over and over. 

Eventually, Cas cups Dean's cheek and guides him up to lay on his chest. "I don't mean to ruin the moment, Dean, but it seems you've made a mess of your bed," His sounds _smug,_ the bastard. Dean just huffs out a laugh and nods. 

"Yeah, I guess so, huh? Let's go to your bed for the night, hm?" Dean asks, and pries himself away from Cas with more difficulty than he'd like to admit. 

He stands up and holds out his hand, smiling when Cas laces their fingers together. Neither of them bother with clothes to just walk down the hall. Sam was away with Eileen, so it was fine. Nobody was there to see them, anyways. 

They get to Cas' room and Dean takes it upon himself to peel back the covers and slip underneath them. He hold his arms open for Cas with a soft smile on his face. He can't believe he has this, that he's allowed to have this. There's nobody here to tell him that what he feels is wrong. There's just Cas, there's always Cas. Cas who loves him, his best friend Castiel. When Cas crawls under the covers and slots their legs together, Dean hums happily. "Sleepy?" he asks, carding his hand through Cas' hair. It's softer than Dean would've ever imagined. 

Cas just nods and presses a chaste kiss to his lips before going slack in Dean's arms. Their legs are intertwined, Cas' head is on Dean's chest, and Dean is on cloud nine. Nothing in his life has ever felt more perfect than holding Cas in his arms. He finds it hard to believe that he denied himself this for so many years just because of what his bigoted (and very _dead_ ) father thought. He feels at home. He feels at peace. And John Winchester can go straight (back) to hell if he has something stupid to say when Dean gets to heaven, many years from now. 

"You're thinking too loud. Shut up and go to sleep," Cas grumbles, burrowing himself deeper into Dean's embrace. 

Dean huffs out a laugh. He can't really argue with that. But before he gives himself over to sleep, there's something he has to say to Cas, first.

"Cas, buddy, you know I love you, too, right?" He asks into the dark, and he feels Cas move to look at him in the pitch black room, as if he'd be able to see anything. 

"I do. But it's still nice to hear," Cas says, and he sounds like he can barely stay conscious enough to form a full sentence. Dean just smiles as he presses a kiss to Cas' lips.

And so, when he drifts off to sleep, he's right at home. 

He always has been, with Cas.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not exactly sure how much or how little i'll work on this or add stuff to it, but i'm kinda just letting this take me wherever it wants to. i've never really written a lot of smut so this chapter is sorta my way of feeling through that and seeing how well i can do it lol. its not all porn by any means but a good chunk of it is. anywayssss happy reading! <3 
> 
> p.s. dean's love language is sooooooo acts of service

Dean wakes up sweaty and tangled around another body. _'Huh,'_ he thinks, _'Weird.'_

It takes all of five seconds for him to realize that it's _Cas_ whose legs are tangled up in his own. Surely he's dreaming, right? But no, Cas' naked body is pressed flush against his own and the memories of the previous night come rushing back to him. Cas had come back yesterday. They'd had _sex_ yesterday. It's way too early and there's way too little coffee in Dean's system for him to think about that right now. 

He tries (and fails) to move out of bed without waking Cas. 

"Dean?" Cas asks, and Dean winces. He's sitting halfway up, propped up on his elbow with their legs still intertwined. So much for not waking Cas. 

"Hey, buddy. Sorry. Sweaty, need a shower. And coffee." And to wash Baby, which he never got around to doing after dinner last night. A blush creeps up his neck as he remembers what kept him from it in the first place. His mind drifts off to wondering what would've happened if Cas had joined him last night, and they _had_ washed Baby together, like they originally planned. 

Dean's face goes blank, his eyes hazed over as thoughts of Cas, soaking wet and covered in suds, cross his mind. Maybe Cas is wearing one of his t-shirts, and maybe it clings to his skin and makes Dean's mouth water. Maybe Cas would've pushed him up against Baby, invading his space and making his blood run hot. Maybe he still would, sometime later in the day whenever they made their way out to the garage. 

He snaps out of it when Cas pulls him back down, and Dean lets out a soft 'oof' as his head hits his pillow again. Their faces are close now, and Dean lets himself smile. He lets himself find comfort in Cas' sleepy gaze, but his cheeks are warming up again as he notices Cas' gaze flicker down to his dick, which had conveniently perked up with interest at his fantasies of washing his car with Cas. 

Dean just sputters out a cough and moves to sit up again. "Right. Shower, buddy. I'll be back shortly," he promises, and then he's out of bed and walking down the hallway toward the bathroom. He's running, he has to. It's much harder to face this in the daylight than Dean thought it would have been. 

He had told Cas he _loved_ him. Was it true? Yeah, absolutely. Dean thinks he's probably been fucked since the moment Cas laid a hand on him in Hell. But he'd only let himself acknowledge it _yesterday_ for fucks sake. He's allowed an adjustment period. 

Dean makes his way into the bathroom and flips the light on. He thinks Cas has probably gotten the memo that he wants to do this alone, but he locks the door just in case. He runs the water as hot as it will go, and lets the bathroom fill up with steam. Dean stares at himself in the mirror until it's completely fogged over. 

Dean's dick has very much _not_ forgotten about his little car-washing fantasy. He sighs as he steps underneath the almost too-hot water and lets it burn, just a little. He'll adjust eventually. He leans his forehead against the cool tile in the shower and lets his mind wander. 

And wander, it does. 

His eyes are closed as he wraps a hand around himself. He starts to tug slowly as images of the previous night fill his mind. Castiel writhing beneath him, tugging on his hair. The noises he had made were so pretty, and Dean thinks he'll probably never tire of them. He thinks about the way Cas fucked his throat, the way his face screwed up and his head tilted back as he came. 

Then, his mind wanders further. He thinks about Cas pushing him up against Baby and sinking to his knees. He thinks about Cas unbuttoning his pants and tugging him out of his boxers. He pictures the way Cas' mouth would look, wrapped around him. He thinks about slowly sinking into the wet heat of it, and how fantastic it would feel. He doesn't know if Cas has ever given a blowjob, and he doesn't want to know. He doesn't really care, because it would be _Cas._

He's breathing heavily now, and he can feel his release creeping up on him. He pictures himself yanking Cas up from his knees and bending him over the hood of the Impala and- yep. That does it. 

Dean lets out a strangled "Cas," into the fog of the bathroom and comes across the smooth tile of the shower wall. 

He's still breathing heavily when he absently starts wishing he had asked Cas to join him. 

As if on cue, there's a knock at the door and the handle is jiggling. "Dean?" he hears, and it snaps him back to reality. 

He's stepping out of the shower automatically, and dripping water absolutely everywhere. He pulls the door open to see Cas clothed in nothing but his joggers from last night. It makes him smile. 

"You locked me out?" Cas fake pouts, and Dean can tell he's being teased because of the glint in his eye. 

"Sorry, angel," Dean's shocked at how easily the nickname rolls off his tongue, "Thought I needed some alone time. If it's any consolation, I was wrong." 

Cas just smiles and steps into the bathroom with him. He closes the door and lets his (Dean's) joggers fall to the floor. He steps into Dean's space after that, looping his arms around his waist. 

Dean drops a soft kiss to Cas' forehead before he takes his wrist and leads him into the shower. 

Cas stands under the near-scalding water and hums happily. _'At least we never have to fight over water temperature,'_ Dean thinks, before he's grabbing his Old Spice body wash and squirting some onto a loofa (they fucking _work,_ okay?). He lathers it up and starts running it over Cas' chest and shoulders. 

Cas steps out from directly under the spray of the shower so the suds don't immediately rinse off. He allows Dean to take his time washing his body. 

Dean smiles as he wordlessly washes Cas. He starts with the front of his body and works his way down. He takes extra care around Cas' hips, taking his time to admire them. He's a little obsessed, actually. He scrubs gently at Cas' skin and sighs happily. He loves the little dip in Cas' hips. He loves the way his bones jut out just slightly, not enough that he looks like he's underfed or something, but just enough to define the 'V' that leads to the part of Cas' body Dean is the most excited to get to know. He loves the soft definition of Cas' abs. They weren't dramatically defined, but they were certainly there. Dean loves how they're still soft to the touch but so, so strong underneath his skin. 

Dean drops to his knees and taps on the inside of one of Cas' thighs, wordlessly telling him to spread his legs so Dean can wash there. Cas quirks an eyebrow at the sight of Dean on his knees, but Dean just rolls his eyes and smiles. Cas' dick doesn't seem all that interested in what he's doing, anyways. 

Which is fine, because Dean is enjoying this. He's enjoying taking his time to take care of Cas, to wash him. It gives him an excuse to shamelessly admire all the details he had missed last night in the heat of the moment. He takes note of Cas' thighs, which are more muscular than he had expected them to be. They're steady beneath his shaking hands. At some point, Dean abandons the loofa and opts to start washing Cas with his hands. It might be slightly less effective, but it still works. He stays away from Cas' dick for the time being, just barely missing it every time his hands slide along Cas' inner thighs. He makes his way all the way down until he's washed Cas' feet, and then he stands back up. 

Cas is just smiling at him, letting the water run over his back. Dean gets a little more soap and lathers it in his hands. His gaze flickers down, asking a silent question. Cas nods at him and leans forward for a quick kiss. It only lasts a moment, but it fills Dean's stomach with those damn butterflies again, beating against the inside of his chest. 

Having been granted permission, Dean lets his hands wander down to Cas' (still soft) dick, and cleans it carefully. Surprisingly, there's really nothing sexual about it. It's just intimate, which is arguably harder for Dean than if he was just jacking Cas off in the shower, quick and dirty. 

Dean instructs Cas to spin around by twirling his index finger around with a wink. Cas obeys easily. Dean makes slightly quicker work of Cas' back side, only stopping to admire the swell of his ass for a few seconds. It's a nice ass, but that's part of Cas that Dean isn't sure he's ready to tackle yet. He lets Cas take care of washing that part of himself, apologizing with his eyes. Cas forgives him with his own. 

Once Cas is fully washed and rinsed off, he returns the favor to Dean. He uses the same care and attention that Dean had used on him, and it makes Dean feel a little bit sick in the best way. He's nervous, twitchy, sensitive. He isn't used to anyone looking at him like this, caring for him like this, _loving_ him like this. 

Cas is, however, decidedly less afraid of Dean's ass than Dean is of Cas'. Dean audibly gasps and has to brace himself with his palm flat against the wall of the shower. Cas' hand is brushing over a part of him that has literally never been touched by another human being. He squirms a little but he certainly doesn't protest. He just allows Cas to wash him, reminding himself that nothing about this whole thing has been sexual, and he doesn't have to worry about Cas trying to fuck his ass just yet. 

He breathes deep and slow as he lets Castiel continue to wash him. After that, they both make quick work of washing each others' hair at the same time and giggling through the whole thing. Dean briefly considers using Sammy's conditioner on Cas' hair just to make it that much softer, but his stomach grumbling tells him that there's no time for that, and it'll just have to wait until next time. 

Once they've both rinsed, Dean turns the shower water off but doesn't immediately step out. He holds Cas' face in his palms, while Cas' hands rest easily on his hips. Dean leans down and presses their lips together, smiling into the kiss. 

Their lips fit together easily, and they fall into a rhythm as if they've already been doing this for years. It's so easy with Cas, it comes so naturally in the moment. Its the times when Dean lets himself actually _think_ that everything starts to get cloudy and confusing.

But _this?_ This was easy. Dean thinks that if he didn't have so much to do, he might be able to stay here and do this until he died. It just feels so simple. It's sweet. He kisses Cas slow, but deep. He steps impossibly closer to Cas and smiles into the kiss at the way their bodies are pressed flush against each other. Before he can think too hard, Dean breathes, "I love you," into Cas' mouth. 

Cas is the one to break the kiss, and he smiles as he says "I love you, too, Dean," and then he's stepping back to get out of the shower. Dean's eyes linger on Cas' ass, because _damn,_ it's nice. How did he never notice before? 

Right, the trenchcoat. It had always swallowed Cas whole, but Dean would've forced him to ditch that thing years ago if he had known what he'd been hiding under there. He probably would've made him ditch all the rest of his clothes, too, to be fair. 

Cas hands him a towel, and then grabs one for himself. They both dry off before wrapping their respective towels around their hips to walk to Dean's room for a change of clothes. Dean smacks Cas' ass through the towel and chuckles at his own antics. Cas shoots him a glare with exactly no real heat behind it. 

Dean throws on an old pair of cutoff shorts and a torn up old t-shirt, handing Cas a similar outfit from his wardrobe. They'll wanna be wearing clothes that won't weigh them down when they inevitably soak each other and themselves with water while washing Baby. Dean looks at Cas from across the room and smirks. 

"Why are you staring at me like you want to eat me?" Cas smirks right back at him. Smug bastard. 

Dean laughs softly. "You just look good in my clothes, that's all. But I guess we should get you some of your own at some point," Dean notes. Another thing to add to the to-do list. That's fine, as long as he gets to do it all with Cas. 

Instead, Cas shakes his head. "No, thanks. You have enough clothes for us to share, Dean. I like wearing your clothes just as much as you like me wearing them." 

Dean huffs out a laugh at that. This guy is gonna kill him. "Whatever you say, buddy," he says as he turns around to head to the kitchen. It doesn't matter how deeply in love he is with Cas, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to get himself to stop calling him 'buddy.' It's what they were. It's what they always have been. It's what they always will be, even if they're something more, too. 

He doesn't have to look over his shoulder to know Cas is following him to the kitchen for breakfast. "What sounds good, Cas? I could make pancakes, waffles if you want. Or we could go simpler with it, bacon and eggs, maybe toast." He finally turns around to look at Cas, who's already putting on a pot of coffee. God, Dean loves him. 

"Simple. We don't need a heavy breakfast sitting on our stomachs if we're going to wash the car," Cas says, clearly remembering that Dean had mentioned needing to wash her. The thought that Cas remembered something so small after a night full of so many things that were so much bigger warms his heart. 

"Right," Dean coughs and shifts. "Good point. How do you like your eggs?" He winks. 

"However you do is fine," Cas says, and the coffee is done. Cas gets two mugs out and fills one of them. He picks it up and walks it over to Dean before pouring his own cup and sitting at the table. He sips and waits for Dean to be done cooking, looking content. 

Dean can't help but smile at the familiarity of it all. Cas had been his best friend before he got pulled into The Empty, and for so many years before that. How many times have they been doing _exactly_ this? Usually, Dean's cooking for himself and Sammy, and Cas doesn't care for coffee as an angel, but still. He turns around and leans against the counter to look at Cas, who looks lost in thought. 

"Hey, buddy. You okay?" Dean asks him, the only noise in the whole bunker besides the bacon sizzling behind him. 

Cas looks up from his cup of coffee and nods. "Are we... Boyfriends?" he asks, and _okay,_ that's totally not what Dean was expecting. 

"Boyfriends." Dean draws the word out, and it just feels wrong. _'This is Cas, my boyfriend.' 'Hey, Sammy. Cas is my boyfriend now.'_ Yeah, no thanks, Dean doesn't like that. "No," he pauses, his heart starting to split open at the look on Cas' face. "Partners. Husbands, someday. Maybe. If you wanted that." Why the _fuck_ would he say that? Oh well. Can't take it back. "But not boyfriends. Makes us sound like we're teenagers. Partners." He settles, and his hands shake as he turns around to flip the bacon. Hes praying to God (Jack?) that Cas doesn't acknowledge the 'husband' comment, because he hadn't even really meant to say it. He was in no way, shape, or form ready to be married to Cas. He hadn't even given it a thought until literally just now. 

But of course, he _is_ Dean Winchester, and nothing is ever that simple for him. "Husbands? You'd want to get married?" Cas sounds dumbfounded, but Dean can't bring himself to turn around to check if his expression matches his tone. He just shrugs his shoulders.

"I dunno, Cas. Isn't that what people who are in love do?" He starts. He's not very happy with himself for starting this conversation. "Like, not yet. I just came to terms with the fact that I've liked dudes my whole life. Not sure I'm ready to up and put a ring on it right out of the gate, you know?" He explains. He hopes he hasn't gotten Cas' hopes up. 

"Dean, I simply would have been happy to spend the rest of my human life by your side as a best friend, and nothing more," Cas says, and his voice is a little louder, like he might be closer. Dean turns his head and is met with those big blues, the ones that have had a grip on him for the better part of twelve years. Dean gulps when Cas continues, "Anything more than that is just a bonus. I would be happy to marry you, but not until you're ready," he finishes, offering a kind smile and a hand on Dean's shoulder. 

Dean's vision goes blurry and his eyes become glassy. He doesn't deserve this. There's no way he deserves this. This unfathomable being, who was created to be a soldier, a weapon for heaven loves _him._ He doesn't even bother trying to hide his tears, Cas knows him more intimately than anyone else ever had. Cas had literally rebuilt him, body and soul. Even before Cas rebelled for him, he knew Dean. Knew everything about him, really. And Cas' love had been so patient, all these years. Maybe patient isn't the right word. Cas wasn't even waiting on him. He was just holding all his love inside himself, waiting for the right moment to let it all out. Dean wonders if Cas _ever_ would've told him, had it not been to save his life. So, he asks.

"Cas, if you had never made that deal with The Empty," Cas stiffens visibly, "Would you have told me? Ever?" 

"Well, if I had never made that deal with The Empty, we would both be dead, Dean. Neither of us would be here. So, no. I guess not." Cas sighs and leans into Dean's side. Dean feels a little sad at that, but he guesses Cas has a point. 

"Okay, forget Chuck. Forget Billie. Forget all of it. If none of that was a factor, would you have ever told me, then?" Dean presses. He hates to think what would have happened if Cas had never breathed a word of his feelings. He hates to think about what his life would look like without this, now that he has it. He's coming around quicker to the idea of spending his life with a man faster than he thought he would. He hasn't heard John Winchester's bitter words in his head all morning. He hopes he'll never hear them again. He doesn't want to hate the part of himself that makes him able to love Cas back, he doesn't want to hide it anymore. 

He isn't going to wear pride pins, or hang the bisexual flag up in his bedroom, but he wants to be able to hold Cas' hand in public without fear. 

Cas answers him after a moment. "I believe I would have told you. Eventually." 

Dean relaxes a little at this, and takes the bacon out of the pan. He lays the strips on a paper towel to let it soak up some of the extra grease. Dean's had enough of examining his emotions so closely this morning, so he plasters a smile on his face and says, "Be a dear and grab the eggs out of the fridge for me." When Cas eyeballs him suspiciously with one eyebrow raised, Dean lets the fake smile fall off his face and replaces it with a real, softer one. "Please?" he adds, leaning in to peck Cas' cheek. 

Cas rolls his eyes fondly and traipses over to the fridge to grab a carton of eggs. Dean cracks four of them into the pan with the leftover bacon grease and puts a lid on top of the pan so that the tops of the eggs cook, too. Dean grabs the bread from the pantry himself and pops 4 slices in the toaster. By the time the toast is done, the eggs will be, too, and they can eat. 

While they wait on toast and eggs, Dean wraps one arm around Cas' waist and pulls him close. He presses a kiss to Cas' temple and mumbles against it, "Gotta do laundry today. My bed's bigger, I'm not waking up basically glued to you by our sweat again tomorrow morning." He's only teasing, of course.

Cas smiles and turns his head to capture Dean's lips in a kiss. "We can throw a load of laundry in after breakfast, then go wash the car."

Dean kisses back easily and nods. "What are we gonna tell Sam?" he asks with a laugh. 

"Uh, the truth?" Cas suggests, shrugging his shoulders. "He probably already suspects something. I'll help you tell him, Dean. Don't worry about it." He smiles, and its full of so much warmth that Dean just wants to bask in it forever.

Dean sighs and nods. He's nervous about telling Sammy. Granted, he probably never forgot walking in on Dean with his tongue in another dude's mouth. Still. "Cas, this is easy right now because of this happy little bubble we have," he starts, "But I can't promise it'll always come this easy to me. I love you, and that won't change. Ever. But I-" and then the toast pops out of the toaster, and if Dean had been wearing socks, he would've just jumped straight out of them. 

Cas is doubled over in laughter at Dean's jumpiness, and Dean scowls at him. "Fuck, man! I completely forgot about the toast," he grumbles.

Cas is still laughing, as Dean takes the eggs out of the pan. He puts two on one plate, two on the other. By the time he's done plating all of their food, Cas' laughter had died down but not ceased completely, and Dean's scowl has turned into a fond smile. 

He brings both plates over to the table and sits them across from each other. He and Cas sit across from each other and eat their breakfast. Halfway through, Cas kicks Dean's foot to get his attention. Dean's head snaps up from his plate, and he tilts his head. "What's up?" he asks, mouth full of bacon and eggs. 

"Thank you for breakfast," Cas smiles, rubbing his bare foot against Dean's ankle.

Dean smiles at Cas' words and at the gentle touch. They finish the rest of their breakfast in comfortable silence, their ankles staying interlocked. 

Cas finishes first, and he waits for Dean. He sips at his coffee until Dean is done too, and then he takes both plates to the sink. "You go throw your bedding in the washing machine, I'll get soap and buckets and sponges. I'll meet you in the garage." Cas turns toward the Bunker's garage after that and makes his way out to set up. 

As Dean strips the bedding from his mattress, he can't help but think about how this time two days ago, he was broken. He was a shell. He hadn't left the Bunker, and he had no plans to. He can't believe Jack gave them this chance. He sends up a quick prayer of thanks, tells Jack that they all miss him, and gathers up his sheets and blankets to haul them down the corridor of the bunker and into the laundry room. He throws them in the wash and leans against the wall for a moment. 

Its times like this, when Cas leaves him alone with his thoughts, that Dean starts to freak out a little. He feels sick. He never wants to be without Cas again. He had been beside himself with grief not even 48 hours ago. And now, that's gone. Or rather, it _should_ be gone. It really should be. But even though Cas is back, Dean still feels the sting of losing him. Something like that doesn't just magically go away. It isn't supposed to. Greif isn't a feeling that's made to disappear. Losses like this one stick with you forever. They grow duller over time, less noticeable, but Dean knows that even though Cas is back, this is a weight he'll carry for a while. 

Dean doesn't realize there are tears streaming down his face until he goes to turn around and sees Cas standing in the doorway. Apparently, he'd been pretty lost in his thoughts because he didn't realize he'd been gone long enough to warrant Cas coming to check on him. He whips back around and wipes at his face, trying desperately to get the tears to knock it the _fuck_ off. Since when did he cry so much? He feels like a scared kid, lost in a grocery store. Everything is too big and too scary and he's overwhelmed.

Dean wills himself to stop the tears as he leans against the washing machine, breathing deep and slow. He turns back around to face Cas as he wipes the rest of the wetness off his face. He can't talk to Cas about this, not yet. Cas came back to life, shouldn't he be ecstatic? How is he even supposed to explain any of this to him at all? 

"Dean?" Cas asks, and he looks like he isn't sure if he should wrap Dean up in his arms and never let go, or if he should turn around and bolt in the other direction. 

Dean shakes his head, "I can't talk about it, Cas. Not yet. I will, eventually. I promise. But not today," he sighs and walks toward Cas to pull him into a gentle hug. When he pulls back, Cas is wearing an expression that makes him want to crack his ribcage right open and hand Cas his physical heart. Just to hold on to. 

"Okay, Dean. But you know I'm here, right? And I would never judge you for anything you feel," Cas reassures him. 

Dean can't help but flash him a smile. "I know that, sweetheart. I know," he whispers, leaning down to brush their lips. He'd intended for it to be a quick, soft kiss. Cas has other plans, apparently. 

Cas reaches up and cups the back of Dean's neck, kissing him deeply. Dean can basically feel the love pouring out of him through his lips. He makes a soft noise of surprise but returns the same enthusiasm that Cas is giving him. Dean's hands pull Cas close to him by his waist. He wraps one arm all the way around his back, and he wants to _cry_ at how good this feels. He's sure he's never felt anything like it. 

"I love you, Dean Winchester. I am never going to stop. I am never going to waver. I love you." Cas says against his lips, his own voice breaking. 

Dean pulls him close and cradles Cas' head against his chest. "I know, Cas. Right back at you," He whispers, pressing a kiss to Cas' head. "Now, I have a car that needs washin', and it ain't gonna wash itself. Let's go." 

Cas nods and pulls away from him, but interlocks their fingers. They walk to the garage holding hands, and it leaves Dean feeling more flustered than the kiss in the laundry room.

Once they've made it to the garage, Dean turns on the radio and it plays through the speaker system he'd rigged up a few weeks ago. Led Zeppelin starts playing over the speaker system, and Dean's face lights right up. Having feelings sucked, but it wasn't anything some good music and a clean car couldn't fix. At least for a little while. 

Dean sings along to all of the songs that come across the speakers, and Cas even sings along to the chorus of a few of them. They wash the impala together in relative peace, until Dean decides that this could _definitely_ be more fun than it is right now. He takes a sponge and dips it in the soapy water, sneaks up behind Cas, and wrings it out right against the back of his neck. 

"Dean!" Cas yelps in surprise, but whips around and starts laughing. He takes his own sponge and throws it at Dean's chest, earning him a look of feigned hurt from Dean. 

"Castiel," Dean gasps, and _man,_ it feels weird to use his full name. "I can't believe you, you've betrayed me!" He exclaims, over-animating himself on purpose. He dips the sponge back into the soapy water and walks up to Cas, pressing it directly against his chest. The water drains out of the sponge and effectively soaks Cas' entire chest and most of the front of his pants. 

Cas and Dean are both laughing, taking turns pouring water on each other until they're both drenched, head to toe. They'd pretty much finished washing Baby, and all Dean had to do now was hook up the hose and rinse her off. 

After he rinses Baby, the water is still running as he smirks and turns to look at Cas.

Cas' eyes widen, "Dean. Don't," he warns, slowly backing away. To no avail.

Dean presses his thumb over the top of the hose, making the water spew in all directions around his thumb. He chases Cas down and soaks him, head to toe. Eventually, Cas charges him and wrestles the hose away from him. "Shit," Dean laughs as he takes what is rightfully deserved, letting Cas drench him willingly. 

"Well it's no fun if you just let me," Cas sighs, rolling his eyes. Dean walks over to turn off the water, and then he walks back over to plant one right on Cas' mouth. "I love you," he sighs against his lips. It gets a little easier every time he says it. 

Cas beams back at him, and it's instant forgiveness for the fact that he is currently dripping. Cas starts fiddling with the hem of Dean's shirt, which is clinging to his skin in every spot. Dean raises an eyebrow at Cas, pulling back to look at him. "You tryna get me naked again, Cas?" he whispers, slowly leaning back down to brush his mouth against Cas' as he speaks. 

Dean watches Cas' adam's apple bob as he nods slowly. He's making _Cas_ feel flustered, this time. He thinks back to this morning in the shower, how he got off to the thought of Cas bent over the Impala, begging Dean for something, _anything._ "Well, too bad," Dean teases, one hand coming up to wrap around Cas' throat. He doesn't squeeze, just watches the look that passes over Cas' face. Listens to his soft whine of protest, and looks into his pleading eyes.

"Dean," Cas rasps out, and even though Dean isn't squeezing his throat, it sounds like he is. Cas' voice is so strangled, so rough. "Please." 

"Later, sweetheart," Dean whispers, pulling Cas forward by the light hold on his neck. Their lips touch as Dean speaks, "I promise. Best I can give you right now is getting me down to my boxers. Can't walk through the Bunker like this, man. More hassle than it's worth." 

Cas just nods. Dean steps back and peels his shirt off his skin and over his head, only breaking eye contact when the shirt comes over his head. He stares right into Cas as he fumbles with the button of his shorts, and unzips them slowly. He peels them off, too, and lets them pool at his ankles. Then, he's just standing in front of Cas in nothing but his boxers, which aren't hiding much at _all,_ considering they're soaked all the way through, too. 

Dean thinks that Cas is probably about to start drooling, judging by the look on his face. Dean just leans back against Baby, still staring at him. "Your turn, sweetheart," he smirks. _This_ is what Dean is good at. He's good at getting his lovers worked up, good at making them want him. This is infinitely easier than all that 'feelings' bullshit. 

Dean crosses his ankles as he leans against the Impala, folding his arms over his chest. He's watching Cas strip for him, watching Cas _ache_ for him. Once Cas is out of his pants, the clear outline of his hard dick is _very_ visible through his boxers. Dean wants to rush him, tackle him onto the ground, and take him right where he stands. But he has self control, he has restraint. He can wait. He can make Cas wait. 

Dean makes a 'come here' motion with his index finger, and Cas does. "You're beautiful, Dean," Cas whispers, laying both of his palms flat against Dean's chest. 

Dammit, this is what Dean's been trying to avoid. He's getting damn tired of the way his heartrate picks up every time Cas says something to him that's even remotely intimate. Cas must take note of Dean's thumping heart beneath his palms, because he continues. "Right down to your soul. I stitched it back together myself, I remade you. I know your soul better than you do," he whispers, pressing closer to Dean so their lips are touching. 

Dean whines into his mouth. He want's Cas to stop so, so bad. But he also kind of wants him to go on and on forever. 

Cas doesn't seem to care that Dean is feeling conflicted as he presses closer yet, "Nothing anyone can do or say will ever stop me from loving you. I'll say it until my dying breath. You are selfless, loving, and deserving of praise. You deserve to hear everything I'm telling you right now. Do you hear me?" he asks, pulling back to look into Dean's eyes. 

Dean nods furiously and claws at Cas' hips. He dips his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and surges forward, pressing his lips to Cas'. "Please, just stop talking. I hear you," he breathes, kissing him for a moment longer before whispering, "I hear you," once more. 

Cas kisses him back now, pressing him backwards into the Impala. The metal is cold against Dean's skin, but he feels like he's on fire. Like he might just burn right up and turn to ash right there in Cas' arms. 

"Cas, bedroom. Please," Dean begs, trying to push himself up off the Impala. He feels Cas smile against his lips before he pulls back. 

Cas leads him through the Bunker, and they're still wet. Less wet than they would be with their soaking wet clothes on, but they're definitely tracking water all through the Bunker. Dean follows closely behind Cas, wrapping his free hand around Cas' where it circled his wrist. This was a stupid idea. Dean should have just had his way with Cas in the garage. He thinks he might die if he has to wait much longer. 

Cas swings open his bedroom door and immediately rids himself of his boxers. Dean follows suit and lays down in Cas' bed. He doesn't care that they're both still wet. They can sleep in Dean's bed tonight. Dean is pretty sure he'll die if he doesn't get his hands back on Cas. 

Cas crawls up the length of Dean's body and straddles his hips. He gazes down at him, and holds Dean's chin between his thumb and forefinger. He leans down and presses their lips together, rolling his hips down. 

Dean is whining and squirming, he can't believe Cas turned this around on him like this. He's going to have to have a talk with Cas about that, if his brain ever decides to come back online. With the way Cas is moving above him and kissing him like he needs it to stay alive, he's not completely sure his brain ever _will_ come back online. He's actually okay with that. 

"Dean," Cas groans, dropping his head to rest in the crook of Dean's neck. Dean's arms wrap around Cas' back, pulling him down so their chests are pressed together. He breathes into Cas' mouth and rolls his hips up into Cas. 

"Cas, buddy. I don't wanna take this too far, I don't wanna go further than you're comfortable with," Dean breathes, because they haven't exactly talked about any of this. 

"Don't call me buddy while you're naked underneath me," Cas deflects, smirking down at him. 

Dean huffs out a laugh. "Okay, that's fair," he says. "Seriously, Cas. I... We haven't talked about this yet. I don't know what you like or don't like," Dean sighs and rubs his hand up and down Cas' back as he lays on top of him. 

"Anything, Dean. I want it all, anything you want." 

Dean has never had anyone in his life be this undeniably devoted to him. His heart swells and he nods. He moves slowly and gently as he flips them over. He taps the inside of Cas' thigh, a silent signal to spread his legs. Cas obeys quickly enough, and Dean settles in between them as he hovers over Cas. He looks down at him and he feels like he could cry. He's heard Cas tell him he deserves this, but he still can't believe it. There are parts of his brain that think maybe this has all been an insanely long, realistic dream. But he knows, deep in his heart, that Cas is here. Castiel, Angel of the Lord is here beneath him, and is in love with him. 

"Okay," Dean's voice breaks and he coughs. "I've never done this before, Cas. I'm guessing you haven't either," Cas opens his mouth to speak, but Dean presses a finger to his lips. He doesn't want to know. "I mean, I've seen gay porn. I kinda know what I'm supposed to do. But there's gonna be some trial and error here, 'kay? You're gonna have to tell me what feels good and what doesn't." Dean has never been good at communicating in an emotional sense. But in a sexual one? He knows he's caring, considerate, and willing to listen. Dean has lived most of his life aiming to please anyone and everyone, and his sexual partners are no exception. This one especially. This is _Cas._ He can't let Cas down. 

"Of course, Dean. I trust you," Cas says softly. He leans up just slightly to seal his lips against Dean's. They stay like that for a while, just kissing tenderly and holding one another. 

Cas lifts one leg to hook it up over Dean's waist, pulling him closer. They move gently against each other and settle into a rhythm easily. "I want you inside me, Dean. I _want_ that. Please," Cas breathes from beneath him, his hands holding either side of Dean's face. Somehow, he must have known that Dean needed to hear those words to actually _get on with it._

Dean exhales and nods, suddenly jittery. "Right, yes. God, me too," he says, "But we need lube. I have some in my room," he says, moving to climb off of Cas. "You stay here. I'll be right back." 

Cas nods at him and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he wraps a hand around himself. "I'll be here," Cas breathes, not breaking eye contact with Dean as his hand moves up and down. 

Dean gulps and essentially sprints out of the room and down the hall, and into his room. He grabs the bottle of lube from his bedside drawer and hurries back to Cas, probably nearly knocking the door off it's hinges as he swings it open. 

He grabs one of the pillows that Cas isn't using and he taps on Cas' hip, a silent _'lift up.'_ Cas does, and Dean slips the pillow beneath Cas' hips. Cas spreads his legs automatically, and Dean situates himself between them. He sits with one leg thrown overtop of one of Cas', and the other one tucked underneath himself. He has a good view of everything he needs to see, and he takes a deep breath. He pops open the bottle of lube and spreads some over two of his fingers. He starts with just one, though. 

He presses the pad of his finger against Cas, but doesn't slide it inside just yet. He wants to make sure there's enough lube to go around, doesn't want Cas experiencing more discomfort than necessary. He chuckles softly when Cas whines and rolls his hips downward, asking for more without his words. 

"Ready, angel?" Dean whispers, pouring a little bit more lube over his fingers. Can never have too much. 

"Yes, Dean. Please, I want it," Cas whimpers, and Dean is _so_ gone. 

He exhales and slides his index finger inside, taking his time. Cas' face screws up and Dean really can't tell if that's good or bad. Once his first finger is fully inside Cas, he stays there. He groans at how tight Cas is, in utter disbelief that he's going to be inside him in a few minutes. "How's that, baby? Hm?" Dean speaks softly, using his free hand to rub the outside of Cas' thigh to soothe him. He kneads the flesh there under his fingers as he starts to slowly draw his finger back out. 

"It's okay," Cas says, unconvincingly. "It's a little uncomfortable, but don't stop. It'll get better." 

Dean nods and moves his finger slowly, pressing gentle kisses to the inside of Cas' thigh. He feels him tighten around his finger, and he leans his face against Cas' thigh, looking up at him. "You have to relax for me, baby. It'll feel better. I promise," Dean says, but it's an empty promise and they both know it. Dean has literally _no_ experience here, but he imagines that relaxing won't hurt anything. 

He can feel it when Cas breathes in deep and exhales. He feels him open up just slightly more, and takes this as his sign to start moving at a slow but steady pace. Cas is definitely growing accustomed to the feeling, because he continues to relax into it. His hand scrambles to find Dean's over his thigh, and he squeezes. "Good. That's... That's good," he moans. "More." It isn't a request. 

Dean nods and pulls his first finger all the way out, only to reinsert it with the 2nd one alongside it. This earns him a long whine, and he smirks. Cas' back arches off the bed just slightly and his breathing gets heavier. 

Dean moves his fingers a little faster now, twisting them slightly and scissoring them open to stretch Cas even more. He must do something right, because Cas jerks and lets out an "Oh!" when Dean twists his fingers in a new way. 

"Yeah, baby? Like that?" He does it again, earning himself another moan. He smiles at this. Dean has always gotten off on his partner's pleasure. He takes a lot of pride in his ability to make women feel good, and he's proud of himself for getting the hang of this so quickly. Dean leans forward as he continues to move his fingers, taking the head of Cas' dick into his mouth. He sucks gently as he fucks his fingers into Cas, pulling all sorts of noises out of him that Dean never wants to stop hearing. 

He pops off after a couple of minutes and pours lube over one more of his fingers. "More?" he asks, pulling the first two out and lining up a third right next to them. He thinks that Cas could probably take him already, but he wants to make sure that Cas feels comfortable. He wants to do this right, he doesn't want to hurt Cas. Doesn't want him to feel like Dean is rushing to get this over with. 

Quite the opposite, actually. Dean thinks that he could do this, just this, for hours. He gets to drink up all the noises Cas makes for him, gets to watch his face. 

"Yes, more. Please, Dean," Cas is grinding down on Dean's fingers, trying to pull them back in. Dean obliges him and watches his fingers sink back into Cas, his mouth hanging open in awe of Cas' beauty. "Oh, Dean... That's..." Cas trails off, rolling his hips down to match Dean's rhythm. Dean thinks he might explode on an atomic level, Lucifer-snap style. 

"I've got you, sweetheart," Dean mumbles against the skin of Cas' inner thigh, pressing soft kisses there. He curls all three of his fingers upward as he pushes them back inside, and Cas' dick jumps with interest as he lets out a high-pitched noise. 

"Please, Dean. I can take it, please, I want you inside me. I want to feel you, Dean. Please." Cas is babbling and begging, and Dean is proud of himself because he hasn't even put his dick in Cas yet but he has absolutely _ruined_ him. He continues to fuck Cas with his fingers for a while longer, curving his fingers inside of him every few thrusts. 

Dean is pretty sure Cas is near tears by the time he finally pulls his fingers out and coats his dick in more lube than is probably strictly necessary. He's worried, okay? He wants - no, _needs_ \- Cas to be comfortable. 

He lines up and steadies himself above Cas. He leans down to kiss his lips as he pushes in slowly. He whimpers at how _tight_ Cas is. "Cas, baby, are you sure you're okay? Are you sure I'm not hurting you?" he asks, bottoming out and pressing his hips flush against Cas'. 

Cas is squirming beneath him, trying to get Dean deeper. He rocks his hips up into Dean, looking into his eyes. "Dean, I promise y- ah!" Cas' eyes roll back in his head as he arches up into Dean, "I promise you," he continues, "This is the best thing I've ever felt in all my hears on Earth and in Heaven," he breathes into Dean's mouth. He surges up to kiss him and wraps his legs around Dean's waist, and Dean groans as he pushes impossibly deeper into Cas. 

Dean just nods after that and presses his forehead to Cas'. He pulls out and pushes back in at a slow pace, savoring every moment of this with Cas. They never get another first time. It has to be perfect, Dean needs it to be perfect for Cas. He needs to please him, needs to make him feel good. 

"Dean Winchester, you are not going to break me," Cas all but growls. "I am not made of glass."

So, then Dean is picking up the pace. He seems to be hitting the spot inside Cas that drives him crazy, the spot that makes him arch up into Dean and grind back down onto his dick. Dean moves from hovering over Cas to being up on his knees. He grabs ahold of those perfect fucking hips that he can't get enough of, and fucks Cas like it's the last time he'll ever get to do it. To be fair, Dean is pretty sure there's like a 50/50 chance that this _will_ be the death of him. 

Cas is swallowing him up and making such pretty noises while he does it. Dean just stares down at him and lets his fingers dig into the flesh of Cas' hips and his barely-there love handles. Dean appreciates the way Cas' body has aged over the years, loves the way he's always been human, at least a little. His body had certainly aged like one, and Dean loved it. It made Cas seem just a little bit more comprehendible. Dean knew that he couldn't begin to fathom the depth of Castiel. He knew that, but it didn't make him love him any less.

Dean's thrusts have slowed down and his grip has loosened as he thinks about his ever-growing love for Cas. He lifts Cas' hips for a moment to change the angle, and looks down at him through bleary eyes. They're making eye contact as Dean reaches down with one hand to touch Cas. He tries to match the motions of his hand to the timing of his thrusts, but he's starting to get sloppy. Too much is happening in his brain for him to be too coordinated right now. 

He's fucking Cas deep and steady, now. He knows he won't last much longer, so he speeds up the hand that he has wrapped around Cas' dick. "Fuck, Cas. You're so beautiful, I'm so in love, I love you. I love you," Dean groans as he bottoms out inside Cas, and he's coming. He doesn't let his hand falter and he continues to thrust. 

"Me too, Dean. I love you too, please don't stop. I'm almost-" Cas cuts himself off with a near-scream and arches his back, coming all over Dean's hand and his own chest. 

Dean strokes him through it, until Cas is shaking with oversensitivity. Dean slowly and carefully pulls out of Cas and runs to grab a wet washcloth. He brings it back and cleans off his own hand and Cas' stomach, and then he starts to wipe gently where his come had started to leak onto Cas' thighs. He cleans Cas up thoroughly and tosses the washcloth somewhere on the other side of the room. All he wants to do is scoop Cas into his arms and hold him for a while.

Dean lays down next to an extremely fucked-out looking Cas. His eyelids are droopy and his lips are puffy. He's flushed from his cheeks, all the way down to the middle of his chest. Dean wraps his arm around this man - his angel - and pulls him tight against his chest. "Was that... I mean, was that okay for you?" Dean asks stupidly, but he needs to hear Cas say it. Needs to know he's okay with everything that just happened. 

"More than okay, Dean. You were... perfect. So attentive, so caring," Cas is pressing his face into Dean's neck as he speaks, and Dean is running one hand up and down Cas' spine. He smiles when goosebumps raise as his fingers drag over Cas' skin. 

"Thanks..." Dean says sheepishly, pressing a kiss to the top of Cas' head. In his post-orgasmic haze, Dean's mind wanders. 

His grip on Cas tightens just slightly as he closes his eyes. All he sees is black goo, swallowing Cas whole. Taking him away to nothingness. Dean doesn't know when he'll stop feeling this way. When he'll stop grieving someone who is literally right here in his arms. He almost feels guilty for feeling this way. He definitely feels guilty for keeping it from Cas. But he's scared. He's scared of driving Castiel away right after he's gotten him back. He doesn't want Cas to freak out on him, doesn't want Cas to leave. He really can't bear the thought of that. It makes him sick.

"Cas?" Dean's voice cracks as he speaks, tightening his grip on Cas even more. "I really fucking missed you."

Dean cradles Cas' head to his chest, holding him there. Holding him there like he's sure Cas is going to vaporize at any second. He strokes his hair that's slightly damp with sweat, and he smiles. It's not necessarily a happy smile, but Dean can't help but smile. Can't help but let his love pour out through his face. 

Cas tilts his head up to meet Dean's eyes. His brows furrow for a second and he sighs. "I missed you, too. I just wish you would talk to me about what's bothering you so much. I only wish to help, Dean." He says, pressing a kiss to the center of Dean's throat. "Maybe I can help. And if I can't, I can at least listen."

Dean nods. "Okay. Okay, I'll talk. Give me a minute."

"Take your time. I'll always be here."

Dean's heart clenches and he wants to sob. Suddenly, he wishes that it was Cas holding _him,_ and not the other way around. It's fine, he's fine. He can do this. He has to. 

"I dunno, Cas. You never see how I get when you're gone," Dean sighs. "You're gone, so you can't see it. But when you come back, I just go right back to being okay. Or, I have to act like I go right back to being okay. I still feel the weight of all the times I've ever lost you. I don't think I'll ever _not_ feel it." Silent tears are streaming down his face, but he doesn't care. Twelve years of watching Cas die and come back to him are finally catching up. There's no apocalypse looming above them, nothing massive to worry about. Dean always knew that his emotions and trauma would catch up to him eventually, it just fucking _blows_ that it's happening right now. 

"You're my best friend, Cas. I don't know what you assumed it was like every time I lost you, but I've never been okay afterward. The only way I'm able to go on is to fight like hell to get you back, man." 

Cas opens his mouth and he looks like he's about to start speaking, but Dean beats him to it. "And this last time, I don't know. It felt different. It felt... final. Like that was it, I'd never get you back," his voice breaks and he pulls Cas in closer. Closer, like he wants Cas to crawl right underneath his skin and live there forever. Maybe then, Dean wouldn't worry every second of every day that Cas was going to be taken from him again. He continues, "I didn't know what to do with myself, buddy. Sam was lucky to get me to eat every other day. I think I showered twice, the whole time you were gone. It was pure luck that I showered the night before you came back," Dean laughs through his tears for a moment, and he can feel Cas shake with a gentle laugh, too. He thinks he can feel wetness on his chest, but he can't be sure. 

Cas lifts his head and sure enough, his face is wet. It makes Dean want to run, it makes him want to hide. But he knows that he can't do that, not now. Not after everything they've been through. This is hardly the worst Cas has ever seen him, so he bucks up and forces more words out of his mouth. He sucks in a breath and places one hand flat against Cas' cheek.

"I don't know who I am without you. The same way I don't know who I am without Sammy. My life doesn't make sense without you in it, man. And I'm not good at this, I'm not good at feeling my emotions, and I'm even worse at expressing them, but-" 

Cas interrupts him, "I think you're doing a wonderful job, Dean. I'm proud of you." 

Dean's words get stuck in his throat at that, his throat closing up and betraying him. He stammers for a moment with his mouth open and his eyes wide. More tears spill down his cheeks and Cas reaches up with a sad and understanding smile to wipe them away. "Listen, man. I'll never be perfect. I'll never be what you deserve. I'm still me. I'm still a dick. But I love you, and I don't want to be without you," he chokes out. 

Cas leans up and kisses him slow and deep. Dean can feel his insides churning as he holds the back of Cas' head with one hand, and trails the other one up and down all of Cas' body that he can reach. He starts right at the dip in his waist and lets his hand roam down to the back of Cas' thigh, pulling it up over his own hip. He needs to be close, needs to feel the weight of Cas' body. He presses forward and kisses him harder, and his mouth almost hurts with the force of it. "Don't leave me again, sweetheart," he begs against Cas' lips. "I won't make it." 

Cas keeps one hand on Dean's cheek and uses his other one to press on the small of Dean's back and draw him closer yet. "I'm not going anywhere, Dean." It's a promise. 

Dean just nods and kisses him once more, soft and easy. His heart is pounding so hard that he's worried it might beat straight out of his chest. He stays there with Cas for a while, limbs tangled as they cling to each other for dear life. Dean knows, logically, that Cas is back for good. Emotionally, though? He's sitting on the cold concrete floor of the bunker, staring at the wall The Empty seeped out of, encompassing the love of his life in thick, black sludge. It feels like a hazy memory and like he's still living it all at the same time. 

Eventually, a shiver runs through Dean's body. He's cooled off after their... activities, and he's _cold._ They had never bothered to pull Cas' blankets up over themselves, but Dean shifts out of Cas' grasp to do just that. He sits up wordlessly and he can hear Cas shifting positions behind him. When he pulls the covers over their legs and turns around to look at Cas, he's got one arm tucked behind his head and the other one splayed out across the bed, an invitation. 

Dean accepts with a smile. He lays his head down in the space where Cas' shoulder meets his neck, and places one hand over his heart. He feels it _thump, thump, thump,_ beneath his fingertips. It's the best sensation Dean thinks he's ever felt. 

Suddenly, his father's words don't matter anymore. He doesn't care. Not even _God_ had been able to stop him from loving Cas. So who the fuck is the ghost of John Winchester to try? Dean traces patterns on Cas' skin with his fingertips, pressing soft kisses into his neck. He can feel his eyelashes brush against Cas' skin every time he blinks. He tilts his head up to kiss along Cas' jaw until he reaches his ear. He kisses the top of it and whispers, "Thank you."

Cas turns to look at him then, his eyes narrowed and his head tilted and _God,_ Dean loves that look. "For what?" Cas asks him, bringing his hand to cup the side of Dean's neck. 

Dean is seriously never going to get used to the press of Cas' skin to his own. It's hard for him to comprehend that he just... gets to have this. He gets to be happy, now. "I don't know, man. For everything. I don't even care about my dad and what he'd have to say. This... with you, there's- there isn't anything wrong about this." His voice gets quieter as he speaks, letting his hand dance across Cas' skin until it comes to settle right on his hip bone. 

Cas is about to speak, but he's cut off by the rumble of his own stomach, telling him he needs to eat. This, of course, sends Dean into a fit of laughter. "C'mon, buddy. Enough warm and fuzzy. Let me make you lunch," he says, hauling himself up off the bed. "We probably should get dressed. I dunno when Sam's gonna be back. He's probably expecting... this," Dean gestures to the space between them, "But it'd probably traumatize him to see us walking through the Bunker naked." 

Cas laughs as he stands up off the bed as well, crossing over to stand in front of Dean. He looks him up and down, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. "I don't know, Dean. It might be worth it," Cas jokes. 

Dean's dick twitches with interest at the way Cas looks at him like he's _hungry._ And, well, Dean supposes that he is _actually_ hungry. But that's not what he's talking about. Cas obviously caught Dean's reaction and he quirks up and smirks at him. _'Bastard,'_ Dean thinks, rolling his eyes.

"Nooooope, no. We aren't doing that again. You're hungry, let's go," Dean says, grabbing Cas by the shoulders and turning him around, leading him to the door by pushing gently. 

Cas speaks as he lets himself be led down the hall to Dean's room, "I could wait, you know. I wouldn't mind," and his voice has dropped impossibly lower than normal.

Dean rolls his eyes and swings his own bedroom door open, and Cas shuts it behind them. He crowds into Dean's space and kisses him, whining. 

Dean indulges him and kisses back for a moment, before pulling back. "Seriously, Cas, I'm not going to let you go hungry so you can get your hands on my dick. Get dressed," he winks, slapping Cas' ass. All he gets in return is a huff and a scowl as Cas rummages through his closet. He pulls on a pair of Dean's sweatpants and one of his softest flannels. He lets the flannel hang open and turns back to Dean. 

"There. Happy?" Cas asks, the scowl still gracing his features. 

Dean exhales heavily through his nose as he pulls on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. "You know, you almost look hotter like that than you do naked. Almost." Dean runs a hand through his hair and turns back to open his bedroom door. "Come on. Lunch," he snaps his fingers and turns around to glance at Cas, who is now looking at him with more love and adoration than Dean thought possible. 

They make lunch together, and Cas _refuses_ to leave Dean's space. He doesn't really _help_ Dean make lunch, per se, just clings to him the whole time. Cas' arms are either looped around his waist from behind with his chin on Dean's shoulder, or running through the hair at the nape of his neck, or sometimes just holding onto his hips. 

Dean turns around to face him once he's done, sliding his hands into the still-unbuttoned flannel that Cas is wearing, backing him into the counter opposite them. He leans down and kisses him right as he hears the creak of the Bunker's door swinging open. "Sammy's back," he says against Cas' lips, pressing short, repetitive kisses to his mouth. 

Cas returns his kisses with a smile plastered on his face. Dean's fingers are pressed into those damn hips, the sweatpants hanging nearly too low. They continue to kiss sweetly, and Dean makes no move to unpin Cas from the counter. Cas has no complaints. 

"Dean? Cas? You guys in he- _Woah, okay,"_ Sam stops in the doorway of the kitchen, his eyes wide. Dean lifts his head up to smirk at his brother. At least now he doesn't have to have the _'I like dudes but actually only one dude and it's Cas'_ conversation. 

Cas turns his head around to look at Sam in the doorway. "Hi, Sam," he smiles. 

"Hey... guys..." Sam trails off, "I'll just-" and then he's starting to back out of the room. 

"Sammy, wait," Dean sighs, stepping back from Cas. "I made lunch. Eat," he suggests, handing Sam the plate with what was originally his own sandwich on it. 

"Don't have much of an appetite after what I just witnessed, Dean," Sam jokes, but Dean's stomach drops for a fraction of a second before Sam takes the food he's being offered. Sam obviously notices Dean falter, because he sits the plate down on the table next to him and squeezes his brother's shoulder. "I'm just kidding, man. I'm not dad. I'm happy for you guys. Not so happy that I wanted to see all of _that,_ but definitely happy," he says, turning around to sit down at the table. 

"Thanks, Sammy." Dean smiles gratefully and bashfully before he walks back over to make himself another sandwich. He, Sam, and Cas sit at the table together and have lunch. 

Sam explains what Eileen's been up to, tells them about the quick salt-and-burn they worked while he was away. He tells them he's back earlier than he expected to be because another hunter needed Eileen on a case in another state. He watches them be disgustingly in love, and he smiles. Dean wonders if Sam maybe saw it before he himself did. Everyone and their mothers had been making quips about him and 'the angel' being in love since Cas set foot in that barn in 2008. He wonders if Sam isn't as shocked as he should be because nothing has really changed, not really. 

Cas has been his best friend for the better part of a decade, now. Things have changed, a lot has changed. But not Cas. Not Cas' love. It was unwavering, and had been since day one. Dean could see it now. He could see it for what it was, what it always had been. 

It's beautiful, complicated, _profound_ love. And it always will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i started this at 4:00 in the morning, so if it sucks, it's not my fault. i know dean is all over the place and very back and forth in his emotions. that's intentional, even if it is out of character for him. hes just trying to be healthy and express his feelings more but it is HARD for him. anyways as always, thank u for reading and i hope you enjoyed it as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 also i dont know why im so obsessed with the idea of dean wearing joggers. his bowlegs would probably look absurd in them but i dont care. its fun for me so ill continue to make it a thing

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i kinda wrote this after my mom said some fucked up homophobic shit to me, and naturally i wanted to project my problems onto dean winchester like i always do. why would i get therapy when projecting my problems onto fictional characters is free. anyways let me know what you think and leave me a comment if u have any notes or constructive criticism! if u read all of this i love u. also, i totally didn't have anyone beta this or anything, so if you notice some crazy grammar thing or a typo dont hesitate to let me know!! i tried to pick through this with a fine toothed comb but i was starting to hate it so i stopped doing that
> 
> big thanks to my friend brian for telling me to make dean and cas watch the princess bride. absolutely fucking iconic brian i owe you my life
> 
> p.s. if youre here from tiktok, heeeyyyyyy lol
> 
> follow my tumblr, which is deanc0ded, if you wanna see more of me!!! love u all <3


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